


Between my eye and yours.

by Rileyout



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Canon Queer Character of Color, Fluff, M/M, Muslim Character, Saccharine sweet, Slice of Life, Wednesday is an arsehole, so much so I've given myself an allergic reaction, theres a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rileyout/pseuds/Rileyout
Summary: The Jinn does not grant wishes. Except for when he does.





	Between my eye and yours.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because life needs for Salim/Ifrit and I'm so glad they decided to expand on their relationship.
> 
> Title taken from the poem My Love by Kaleel Gebran
> 
> Unbated because I'm too tired to find me own mistakes.

 

“Your task is not to seek for love,

but merely to seek

and find all the barriers within yourself

that you have built against it.”  - Rumi.

 

 

It’s raining in New York when the Jinn returns. For a moment, he thinks of returning to his old apartment to his old life, but he had given it away like he had the last of his wishes and now he is just the Jinn, nameless and unknown in a city of thousands. New York is much the same as when he left it, streets dirty and crowded, the rain unable to wash away the layers of history and filth and yet so alive with the breath and noise of people that it is almost deafening.

He thinks of the money in his pocket, his meeting with Wednesday had been short lived but profitable. The leprechaun had been more than happy to offer his assistance with the Jinn’s short comings. He thinks of Shadow Moon and his pure disbelief and unsureness of what this world had become to him suddenly. He thinks of a man he once knew that did not ask anything of him and in return the Jinn had given him the last of what he had.

He takes a moment to breath in the life of the city before deciding that hailing a cab would better suit his needs than standing in the icy rain in central New York, his sunglasses becoming spotted with water. He has acquaintances in the city who he must see before the week is out but nothing that can’t keep until his has rested, enough money in his pocket to buy a decent room with a good working shower. He walks a few blocks away from the worst of the crowds, in what direction he doesn’t know, but is thankful when he spots a lone cab sitting on the corner.

He steps in without even knocking on the window, slides into the backseat without much of a word. Later he will think that if he had, had his wits about him he might have chosen to walk on but he had all but forgotten what his old life had been.

“Where can I take you, sir?” He would have to be a fool to not remember that voice and all the memories that have kept him warm on the darkest of nights. Once upon a time he had thought himself above the feelings, above the tangle of emotions that simple mortals seem to have. He wonders, briefly, if it is a figment of his over tired imagination, but one look in the mirror tells him otherwise.

“Perhaps, you could take me home?” The driver, Salim, freezes before looking up in a way that makes the flames that burn in the Jinn’s eyes seep into his stomach and settle there with a flicker of desire.

“You came back,” He’s thinner than the last time they met, less tired looking with more colour to his cheeks, “I did not think I would see you again, my friend.” The Jinn just nods his head, traces the lines of Salim’s neck, the thin cords of muscle and thick veins. This life has been good to Salim, has freed his from the chain of responsibility like a breath of fresh air in new lungs. 

“And I, you.” And for the first time in a while he feels himself relax, feels the relief of safety flow through his veins and loosen his limbs, the faint taste of belief the comes from a true believer. The car rumbles into life and Salim easies them into the on-going traffic.

“I’m sorry, but you did not tell me where you were going.”

“I think you know where I am going.” He watches Salim bite his lip, their eyes meeting for a moment in the rear-view mirror before he nods.

***

Salim’s apartment is on the other side of the city, not the one that the Jinn had left him the keys too, much nicer and cleaner. A little thing in a neighbourhood that breaths life out of every nook and cranny. The building is old and weathered, the stairs creak and there is a faint smell of spices that lingers throughout. The door to Salim’s apartment is battered and groans when he opens it, stepping aside to let the Jinn in before him and locking the door behind them.

The apartment is tidy apart from a few stray books, Salim slips past him to collect them, piling them on the coffee table in a neat stack. He makes a vague gesture for the Jinn to sit but he remains standing, watching Salim carefully, studying his every move from the little shake on his hands to the set of his shoulders.

“You know, I thought of coming to find you,” He smiles weakly, looking anywhere but at the Jinn, “But I could not bring myself to do so. I was afraid that you would turn me away.”

“I think that I would have,” It sounds awful to his ears but Salim only smiles again, “Fate has brought us together as we should be, it is not ours to question when or why.”

He takes a small step towards Salim and then another when he doesn’t back away. His fingers reach out, sliding along the sleeve of the worn jumper that Salim is wearing, it’s not the one the Jinn had left him but the material is soft and the colours similar that the Jinn can believe for a moment that it is the same, that Salim had kept it because he couldn’t bear to be parted from the memory of that night.

“You can take these off,” Fingers toy with the rim of his sunglasses and the Jinn stops him before he can remove them, hands wrapped around slender wrists, “You do not need to hide from me.” Salim removes the sunglasses slowly, placing them carefully on the table, “There you are. I have missed you.”

The desire the kiss him surges through his body and he does not question it, simply pulls Salim into his arms taking his mouth with his own. Salim tastes as he remembers, wraps his arms tighter around the familiar body and drinks in his scent as fingers slide through his hair. Salim seems to have grown bolder in his absence, curling his tongue around the Jinn’s in a way that shows his needs that he was too nervous to do before. Before, Salim had been unsure of how to act on what he had wanted, but now he’s taking as much as the Jinn will give him.

He feels exactly the way the Jinn remembers him, body welcoming him without a moment’s hesitation, relaxing into his touch without needing to be soothed. Salim is pliant under his hands, skin smooth apart from a few childhood scars. He moves where the Jinn guides him, doesn’t complain when the Jinn presses him face down on bed and fucks him with hard determined thrusts, that make him whimper and claw at the sheets. He takes Salim twice more during the night, presses himself against the other and drinks in the little noises that he makes.

He watches Salim sleep, traces his fingers over the dips of his spine and the bruises forming dark on his hips. Salim doesn’t stir only shifts closer to him, breaths a deep a sigh of relief when the Jinn curls around him, body pressed against all the right places and the Jinn is finally able to drift off to sleep.

***

He wakes once in the night, the noise of the city alarming to him after months of backwater motels and long silences. Salim sleeps quietly beside him, face highlighted in the lights of the city, peeking through the worn curtains. The building is mostly quiet apart from the occasional door opening and closing as Salim’s neighbour come and go from their jobs. He hadn’t asked Salim if he needed to work the next day, remembers that the firm was fairly lenient enough that one day of missed work wouldn’t cost Salim his job, or maybe it was simply because no one could remember him, let alone tell the difference between himself and this mortal.

Morning comes with a sharp roll of thunder and a heavy down pour that leaves the Jinn’s skin feeling sticky and tight. He’s not surprised to find himself alone, the small clock by the bedside table reading 12:37pm, most of the day gone in the hazy of much needed rest and safety of familiarity. He did not have any plans when he arrived back in New York only that he needed somewhere to rest his tired bones for a month or two as he waited for Wednesday to make his deal and build his army.

He finds Salim in the kitchen, half dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, carefully placing a kettle on the stove. It’s barely light outside, the city is wide awake, noise filtering through the small open kitchen window. Salim seems at ease, fingers pulling out loose tea leaves, letting them fall into a small metal teapot set on the side. There’s an elegance in the way he moves, long fingers wrapping themselves around the handle.

“You don’t have to stand in the doorway you know?” He spares a glance over his shoulders before moving to do something else. The Jinn is mesmerised by the way he moves, the flow of his actions of simply and relaxed in a way that no other has ever been around him before.

“Why do you give yourself to me so freely?” He watches the way Salim’s shoulders tense, only for a moment before relaxing again, moving to get the last two of his clean cups, “Are you not afraid of me?”

Salim turns to look at him then, with kind eyes and a warm smile.

“Who could ever be afraid of you?” He takes a step towards the Jinn, raises a hand to touch the other’s cheek, “You have shown me nothing but kindness and love. Why ever would I be afraid of you?” Salim kisses him then, tilts his head just enough, nose bumping against the Jinn’s. He tastes of mint, opens his month on the Jinn’s direction to let him taste, sighs when the Jinn wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer.

“Would you like tea? I have mint.”

“I would prefer to take you back to bed.” Salim switches off the hob, the water not even warm.

“Then take me back to bed.”

***

Life with Salim is simple. He is able to fit himself into the gaps that are there, is able to watch him pray without feeling like he is intruding, is able to come and go when he needs with nothing but a short explanation that is not quiet the truth but good enough for Salim. He misses his presence when he is gone, out in the city to work, to live and be, misses his presence around the tiny apartment and the way he will sit curled on the window sill a book in his lap.

Most days he watches Salim pray, takes in the elegant movements his makes and the soft words that he recites perfectly. He doesn’t ask the Jinn to join him, but he can tell that the offer is there. He has no desire to accept it for no other reason than that he does need to pray to know that their god is with him. He admires it, the way that Salim practices his faith, the way that shapes his everyday life, right down to the little things that he does. It makes him love him more, deeply in fact and to the point that he thinks of nothing else, not even the coming war that Wednesday has planned for them.  

They fuck most nights in the way that new lovers do. Salim is greedy for his touch and happy to comply to the Jinn’s desires. The Jinn memorises Salim’s taste, the flutters emotion that cross his face with each roll of their hips and each press of his mouth against the other’s skin. Salim is covered in small bites marks that ring his collar bones dark and possessive in a way that the Jinn never knew that he was capable of.

They don’t talk about that night, a silent agreement between them that the Jinn desires to break, if only to see Salim’s reaction. Their lives quiet and domesticated, but the Jinn is in need of the knowledge that he can test the boundaries of this relationship and step away unscathed if need be. He has never someone’s lover before, never missed their presence when they are gone, nor desired the ability to wish the rest of human kind away so that he spend the rest of time alone with Salim.

Sunday finds them in what passes as a living room, the sun shining brightly as the first signs of autumn touch the air and change the colour of the city into hues of copper and gold. The Jinn knows that his time here is growing short, that soon, maybe sooner than he dares to think, he will be called away from this life and its comforts and pulling to the world of a long war that he might never return from.

Salim has taken it upon himself to make the Jinn more presentable and on Sunday’s they spend the afternoon with Salim carefully cutting and trim the Jinn’s hair and beard. This day is the same as the rest, the familiar movements and motions relaxing the Jinn enough that he feels as if he can finally speak his mind.  

“I did not mean to leave you like that.”

“Yes, you did,” Salim doesn’t look at him just keeps trimming the other’s beard, “Neither of us knew what we wanted back then and perhaps that was for the best,” He takes a step back to have a look at his handy work, “You are very handsome.”

It’s said as he brushes away a few stray trimmings. It is something that the Jinn has never considered before  

“No one has ever told me that before.” Salim smiles, a soft little thing that sends a hot flush of desire through the Jinn’s body.

"What will you do now?" Salim is busy tidying away, done to be kept busy more than for his need to be tidy. 

"Nothing for a time, until I am called upon." He notes the slump in Salim's shoulders and doesn't fight the urge to wrap his arms around the other.

"I could come with you." 

"You could but it is not a place for a mortal such as you," He presses a kiss against the curve of Salim's neck, feels the shivers run through his frame, "I will come back to you."

"I know, but I does not mean I won't worry about you or that I won't miss you."

***

He spends the Fall in Middle America listening to Wednesday's big plans and pointedly ignoring the questioning looks that he gets from Shadow Moon. There's a burning in his stomach that he comes to recognise as longing. Salim is never far from his thoughts, and some nights he wishes that he had brought him long, just for the company, just so that he could look upon the other’s face and marvel at the little flickers of emotion that he tries to hide but can’t.

Wednesday comes to find him late one night, gifts him a bottle of expensive sweet wine that tastes of distant memories of the desert. 

"I heard that you've found yourself a mortal to shack up with" The Jinn barely spears him a glance, just sips the wine and waits for Wednesday to get to his point, "I didn't think you were the type. I thought you were above all that."

"I did not take you for the type to make assumptions about others," he takes his sunglasses off, set them on the table and shutting his eyes for a moment, "it was very unexpected to say the least."

Wednesday smiles at him, more a leer than anything else as if he can see exactly what he and Salim have done, can see the way Salim makes him feel. 

"That's what makes them so interesting. You can never tell what they're doing from one moment to the next," He takes a sip of his own drink, eyeing the Jinn over the rim, "Something's are above even our comprehension, my friend. I’ll make sure you get back to your man in one piece."

Shadow Moon, however, finds him in the early morning as he watches the sun rise and thinks of Salim and what he might be doing.

“I didn’t take you for the kind of guy to watch the sun rise.” The Jinn watches him fold himself into a sitting position, legs crossed and leaning back on his arms, the first rays of sunlight painting him golden.

“And what can I do for you, Shadow Moon?” He can almost feel the way that Shadow jerks in surprise, as if he hadn’t been so obvious in the first place but maybe Shadow still isn’t used to this new world of his, where gods and spirts alike can read the smallest of movements for what it really is, “Men do not seek out a Jinn without reason.” 

“I worry that I’m making a bad choice.” His voice wavers and the Jinn knows that it had taken him a lot of effort to speak the words, to be brave enough to seek him out especially when there was a chance that the Jinn would turn against him.

“Sometimes it is not about good or bad choices but about the one that feels right.”

“You know I read about you. They say you can grant wishes.”

“I have not granted a wish in over a thousand years. I am not sure I would even remember how.” It’s clear that it’s not the answer that Shadow was looking for and the Jinn has been alive long enough to know that men are far fickler that they like to believe, “You miss your friend,” Shadow doesn’t seem to how a hint of emotion, “The leprechaun.”

There is a moment of silence that spreads out before them, the Jinn takes in the small sounds of the town coming alive, hints of bird song on the air as the trees rattle from a sharp breeze. The shadow of death hangs over Shadow Moon, one doesn’t need to be a god to know that. He wonders what wish Shadow would have asked of him, perhaps the chance to see Mad Sweeney once more. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” It’s the sincerest that the Jinn has ever heard Shadow be, the small sound of longing for something lost, that can’t be returned and for a moment he wonders if that is how Salim had felt when he had awoken alone in a city that he barely knew with a new life laid out before him.

They sit for several more minutes, the sun fully breaching the sky and beating away the mist and dew of the night before. Eventually, Shadow climbs back to his feet, the set of his shoulders determined. His mind turns once again to Salim, wonders if he is a wake, wonders if he is safe and well and thinking of the Jinn in turn.

“You know, I don’t trust him.” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to, to know that Shadow is standing in the door frame ready to run if he needs to. 

“Then you have your answer.”

***

He comes home in the middle of the night, shaking his head at the notion that this is what this little apartment is to him now. Salim is asleep in their bed, his Qur'an open next to him, the Jinn picks it up and places it on the side table, before running a hand over Salim's hair, still a little wet from his earlier shower. He shrugs off his coat and places it over the back of the closest chair and works on undoing the buttons of his shirt. Salim sighs in his sleep, and rolls over, curling into the sheets, leaving more than enough room for the Jinn to slide in beside him and curl himself round Salim's slighter frame. He’s warm, when the Jinn presses himself up against the other, the fresh scent of his soap lingers on his skin, curls around him as the Jinn presses himself closer and wraps an arm around the other’s waist.

He falls asleep between one breath and then next and when morning comes, cold and cloudy, he wakes up alone and for a moment he thinks of Shadow Moon and is thankful that he had listened and walked away from the last battle, from the world of lies that Wednesday had built around them all. He can hear the sounds of the city and the little noises of Salim moving around the apartment, the creak of the stairs as the neighbour’s children clatter down them, late for school again. He takes a moment to soak it all in before he drags himself out of the bed. Salim isn’t in the kitchen like the Jinn is expecting, he wonders into the lounge area and finds Salim sitting on the windowsill with a small black lump in his lap. 

“You got a cat.” It’s a tiny little thing, thin and bony but starting to show signs of filling out, he pulls down his sunglasses, replaced from last night’s rest. The little black fur-ball hisses at him before settling back into Salim’s lap.

“I believe that the cat adopted me,” The Jinn reaches out to flit his fingers over the cat’s ears, the animal seems to allow it but curls itself tighter into Salim’s warmth. Salim reaches out and links his fingers through the Jinn’s, “You should sleep some more, you must be tired from your journey.”

“I will if you come and keep me company.” Salim smiles, before moving the cat off his lap, the little thing stretches before curling up on the window ledge and falling back to sleep.

“You can be very persuasive when you want to be.” 

*** 

He sleeps until late afternoon, waking to find Salim laying against the headboard with a book and the cat curled in his lap again. He reaches out to scratch it behind the ears, gets a small purr of affection for his efforts before linking his fingers through Salim’s and giving a gentle squeeze which is returned.

“Does it have a name?” Salim looks up from his book, eyebrows knitted in confusion, “The cat.” 

“Oh. I do not have a name for her.” The cat in question jumps off the bed, seeming to know that it is being talked about and despairing at the thought. Salim sets his book to one side, sliding down to rest against the pillows.

“What should I call you?” The Jinn looks confused for a moment, in all his years no one has ever asked his name, “I cannot call you Ifrit.”

“I do not have a name.” It is true, for when he came to be he had no need for a name, he simply was.

“Ibrahim.” Salim says it so quietly that the Jinn almost doesn’t hear it over the sounds of the city. 

“Hmm?" 

“Ibrahim. It was the name on the taxi license. Perhaps I could call you that.” Salim runs a hand down the Jinn’s side, lets it rest on his hip, “It suits you.”

“How so?” Salim smiles and Jinn’s breath catches in his throat.

“For surely you are the messenger of God, sent to teach me of his love.” He kisses Salim, a soft press of lips against the other’s to simply show the depth of his emotions.

“Ibrahim, it is then.”  


End file.
